Nana (Barnes & Noble Classics) - Emile Zola [52]
They were, in fact, all laughing at Madame Chantereau, who had just made the statement, which she had heard in Alsace, where her husband owned a factory.
“The Emperor is watching, thank goodness,” said Count Muffat, with official solemnity.
These were the last words that Fauchery heard. He closed the door, after looking once more at Countess Sabine. She was calmly conversing with the head of the department, and seemed interested in the talk of the stout man. Most certainly he must have been mistaken, there was no flaw. It was a pity.
“Well, aren’t you coming?” called La Faloise to him from the hall.
And outside, on the pavement, as they bid each other good night, they both again repeated, “To-morrow, at Nana’s.”
CHAPTER IV
Ever since the morning, Zoé had given up the entire apartment to a person who had arrived from Brébant’s with quite a staff of waiters and other assistants. Brébant was to furnish everything—the supper, the glass and crockery, the table-linen, flowers, and even seats and stools. Nana would not have found a dozen napkins if she had ransacked all her cupboards, and, not having as yet had time to set herself up in everything since her new start in life, disdaining to go to a restaurant, she had preferred to make the restaurant come to her. It was more the thing. She wished to celebrate her great success as an actress by a supper which would be the talk of every one. As the dining-room was too small, they had set up the table in the drawing-room—a table on which places for twenty-five had been laid rather close together.
“Is everything ready?” asked Nana, on returning home at midnight.
“Oh! I don’t know,” roughly replied Zoé, who seemed altogether out of sorts. “Thank goodness! I have nothing to do with it. They are smashing everything in the kitchen and all over the place! With all that, I’ve had another row. The other two have been again. Upon my word, I chucked them out of the place.”
She was speaking of madame’s two ex-gentlemen—the tradesman and the Wallachian—whom Nana had decided to dismiss; for, being now certain as to the future, she wished to turn over a new leaf, as she called it.
“What an abominable nuisance they are!” she murmured. “If they come again, threaten them with the commissary of police.”
Then she called Daguenet and George, who had remained in the anteroom, hanging up their overcoats. They had met at the stage-door in the Passage des Panoramas, and she had brought them in her cab. As no one else had then arrived, she called to them to come into the dressing-room whilst Zoé got her ready. In haste, and without changing her things, she had her hair done up, and placed some white roses in it and some others in her dress. The dressing-room was all encumbered with the furniture of the drawing-room, which had been placed there—a lot of little round tables, sofas, and arm-chairs, one on the top of the other—and she was quite ready, when her skirt caught on one of the castors and tore. Then, in her fury; she swore and cursed. Such accidents only happened to her. She tugged at her dress with rage, and pulled it off. It was made of a soft white silk, so simple, so supple, and so fine, that it enveloped her like a long chemise. But, not finding another dress to her taste, she put it on again at once, almost crying, and saying she would look like a rag-picker. Daguenet and George fastened up the tear with pins, whilst Zoé tidied her hair once more. All three busied themselves round about her, the youngster especially, who was on his knees on the floor, his hands buried in her skirt. She at length became calmer, when Daguenet assured her it could not be more than a quarter past midnight, for she had so hurried the last act of the “Blonde Venus,” scamping the cues, and skipping entire verses.
“It was, anyhow, quite good enough for all those fools,” said she. “Did you notice? they were a rum-looking lot to-night! Zoé, my girl, you will have to wait here. Don’t go to bed, as I may perhaps want you. By jingo! just in time.